


No More Tears to Shed

by mogwai_do



Series: It's not the Fall, it's the Landing [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Queen of Swords
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogwai_do/pseuds/mogwai_do
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Em, who wanted Captain Jack and Dr Helm and picked ‘rough’, ‘bite’ and ‘tear’.  Sorry, I didn’t quite manage ‘bite’, but it could be implied.</p></blockquote>





	No More Tears to Shed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evildrem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evildrem/gifts).



It took a while for the sensation of warm water on his bare skin to register, but when it did, it stung. He was on his feet and across the room before he was even fully awake. While he waited for his heart rate to slow he studied the startled man opposite him. Slim, fit, dark-haired and green-eyed; the washcloth in his hand and the bowl at the bedside answered one question.

“Who’re you?”

The man blinked out of his startlement and to Jack’s surprise, smiled, “Doctor Robert Helm, at your service.” The voice had a soft honey-buzz that was strangely soothing.

“Ah, I knew a Doctor once,” Jack tried to make it sound intelligent, but suspected he’d failed. One day he would have to find a way to stop his hormones from waking up before the rest of his brain.

“And you are?”

“Jack Harkness.”

The man smiled again, “Well Mr Harkness, if you’d like to come back here and take a seat I could get back to treating you.”

Jack looked down, moderately surprised to see himself bare-chested, though he still wore his pants, then he caught sight of his wrists – red raw skin forming complete bands around each one. He remembered, oh god, he remembered. Jack dropped like a rock, his legs no longer willing to hold him, and nearly bolted back up again with a scream as the pain shot through him. He remembered and the pain was nothing next to it.

Slowly he became aware of that soft voice again, much closer now, almost crooning. Long fingers carded gently through his hair, “It’s alright, shhh, it will be alright.”

He raised bloodshot eyes that refused to shed a tear, “I used to be stronger than this,” his voice was barely a whisper. He watched the green eyes so close to his own close, but not before he saw something like empathy in them.

“Captain Grisham has something of a temper, I’m afraid, not a lot of skill, but what he lacks there he makes up for in enthusiasm.” The long fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from Jack's face, “Senora Hidalgo is notorious for her... friendliness, you weren’t to know.”

Jack shuddered again remembering the oh so amenable blonde and the blue-eyed captain who had taken such offence. He’d not had time to charm his way out of it, not before he’d been dragged off to jail, held down by two soldiers and beaten. When night had fallen he’d tried to talk his way out, but it seemed the good captain had decided that the most appropriate punishment for Jack’s non-existent crime was to take it out in trade. He remembered the way his wrists had rubbed raw against the shackles; he remembered the scent of gunpowder and blood; he remembered using all his experience to try and relax in the only preparation he would get.

A warm wetness against his hand snapped him from the memories and he looked down to see the Doctor’s long fingers guiding the rough-soft washcloth over his hands, carefully washing each finger, his palm, rinsing out the cloth before bringing it to the raw skin of Jack’s wrists. He hissed at the sting, but held still, watching almost abstractedly as the deft hands continued to clean his skin from wrist to elbow to shoulder.

“It would be easier if you were on the bed,” the Doctor’s voice was soft.

Jack attempted a smile but it came out strained, “Lots of things are.”

The Doctor chuckled, “I doubt you’re in any state for that kind of thing right now.”

Jack watched as the Doctor stood and offered his hand; he took it and was pulled to his feet. The sudden change of altitude made his head spin and he stumbled against the Doctor, feeling the warmth and the firmness of muscle beneath the thin shirt. For a moment he let himself rest there, oddly secure as long arms came around him gently, holding him briefly before guiding him to the low bed in the corner instead of the treatment table. Jack sank down onto the rough woollen blanket, surprised at the softness of the mattress against his abused muscles and bruised flesh.

He opened his eyes to see an almost shocking spark of fire in the green eyes that studied him with not-quite clinical interest. Then the Doctor was sinking to his knees at the bedside and the washcloth returned. Jack let his eyes close again, drifting in the sensation of gentle hands and warm water, thinking that both were cleansing in their own right.

Drowsily he forced his eyes open to watch as soft cotton bandages were carefully wrapped around his wrists and a sharply-scented cream gently applied to the worst of the bruising. He looked up, but the Doctor’s face was mostly hidden by the fall of his hair as he tended to each of Jack’s bruises. He was only partly aware of reaching out and watched in some fascination as his hand gently brushed the dark hair away so he could better see the strong features and tender expression.

The Doctor looked up at Jack’s touch, “Did I hurt you?”

Jack shook his head and dredged his memory, “Robert?”

A nod, “If you prefer.”

Jack leaned forward and offered the only thanks he had to give. The Doctor, Robert, looked shocked for a moment and Jack licked his lips hoping he hadn’t made as big a mistake here as he had with the Captain. He didn’t think so; Robert sounded like honey, but he tasted of cinnamon, unless he missed his guess there was far more to the good Doctor than met the eye. The silence dragged on and he was almost ready to give it up for lost when Robert’s tongue slipped out, wetting the well-shaped lips and tasting Jack there.

Then Robert turned away and Jack’s hopes fell, but it was only to pull a second blanket from the rickety cupboard and spread it carefully over Jack. “Get some sleep; it’s the best thing for you at the moment.”

Jack would have disputed that but already the effects of being clean and warm and... safe were taking hold and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Robert leaned close and Jack fought to stay awake, but the Doctor only pressed a soft kiss into his hair. “Montoya got back this morning and he keeps Grisham on a short leash. If he tries to touch you again, I’ll see to it that he hangs.”

The surety of those words followed Jack into sleep, chased at the very edges of consciousness by the fleeting pressure of soft lips on his own. In his dreams, he smiled.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> For Em, who wanted Captain Jack and Dr Helm and picked ‘rough’, ‘bite’ and ‘tear’. Sorry, I didn’t quite manage ‘bite’, but it could be implied.


End file.
